


Diogee, I Have a Feeling We're Not in Danville Anymore

by Honyasbookshelf



Category: Merlin (TV), Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Blood and Injury, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Hand-wavy medicine, Hurt/Comfort, Lost - Freeform, Medieval, Milo Murphy POV, Milo Murphy Whump, Murphy's Law, Optimistic Milo, Prepared Milo, Protective Knights (Merlin), Time Travel, Whumptober 2020, field medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honyasbookshelf/pseuds/Honyasbookshelf
Summary: "Murphy's Law kicked in and everything went sideways. The man with the bow startled, loosing the arrow off to the side just enough that it grazed Milo's shoulder rather than impaling him. The men on horses—knights in actual shining armor, complete with red cloaks embellished with golden dragons, Milo's brain absently supplied—attacked the other guy."Murphy's Law strikes again, this time leaving Milo and Diogee stranded in medieval Britain. It's a good thing there are a couple of knights around to help out.
Relationships: Diogee & Milo Murphy, Gwaine & Lancelot (Merlin), Milo Murphy & Lancelot (Merlin) & Gwaine (Merlin)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Diogee, I Have a Feeling We're Not in Danville Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> TW: blood/injury

It had been a rough morning, even by Murphy household standards. Milo's first alarm had failed to wake him. So had his second. And his third. His mom had woken him forty minutes after he was supposed to be up. He had then proceeded to bruise his shin while rushing out of bed. He tripped over Diogee on the way down the stairs, running into Sara and leaving her with a sprained wrist. The dog had literally eaten his homework, then barfed it up on the living room floor. Perhaps most impressively, he'd managed to set his breakfast on fire—which was truly remarkable, considering he was having Lucky Charms with milk. And it wasn't even nine o'clock yet!

As if to prove that Murphy's Law was in full effect, the trend didn't stop there. As he was walking to meet Melissa and Zack at the bus stop before school, Diogee came trotting up behind him. Nothing unusual there. Milo turned to good-naturedly admonish the dog.

“Diogee, you're not supposed to be out here. Go home.”

As he was looking over his shoulder, Milo stepped into a temporospatial vortex that opened beneath his feet. It was just that kind of day. Diogee slipped through the vortex as well, before it closed behind them.

The two of them found themselves falling through the air towards a clearing in an unfamiliar wood. In a solid demonstration of preparedness, Milo pulled out a self-inflating cushion in mid-air, giving them a safe place to land. Too bad the wind caught it so that Diogee landed on it, but Milo landed on the ground, twisting his ankle painfully.

“Ow,” he hissed, digging through his backpack for an instant ice pack and an ace wrap. Meanwhile, Diogee ran around, sniffing his new (very interesting) surroundings and peeing on as many trees as he could. After tending to his ankle, Milo took a look around himself.

“Diogee, I have a feeling we're not in Danville anymore. These trees are mostly English Oaks, and that was definitely a red squirrel over there. I think we're in England. What an adventure! Too bad Zack and Melissa aren't here.” With that, he pulled a compass from his backpack, picked a direction at random—there really was no sign of civilization whatsoever around here—and started walking, wincing as he put weight on his injured ankle. This was going to be a long, slow walk at this rate.

Of course, Murphy's Law guaranteed that Milo wouldn't be left to be lost in peace for long. He soon found himself staring down an arrow at a scruffy-looking guy wearing what looked like early-medieval garb. (Melissa had done a report on fashion through the ages back in elementary school. Milo paid attention.) Diogee growled in the background. Milo swallowed hard before talking to the guy.

“Hi, um, could you maybe point that somewhere else? Bows and arrows are notoriously dangerous, and bad things tend to happen around me.”

The guy growled back, “Don't tell me what to do, boy. Bad things are going to happen if you don't hand me all your valuables.”

“Wait, are you robbing me? Wow, that's a new one. Hang on a sec. I don't have anything particularly valuable in here, but let's see what I've got.” He started digging into his backpack, dragging out more and more items—more than it seemed could reasonably fit in the space available.

“Sorcery!” the man growled, staring at the items in bewilderment and what almost looked like fear. Milo opened his mouth to explain that it was science, not magic—Clarke's third law and all—when a couple of horses cantered into the clearing, one of the riders shouting.

“Halt, get away from the boy! Drop your weapon!” Naturally, that's when Murphy's Law kicked in and everything went sideways. The man with the bow startled, loosing the arrow off to the side just enough that it grazed Milo's shoulder rather than impaling him. The men on horses—knights in actual shining armor, complete with red cloaks embellished with golden dragons, Milo's brain absently supplied—attacked the other guy.

There was a flurry of action that Milo couldn't keep track of, ending with a clearly dead body on the ground not far from him. Milo felt vaguely ill. It wasn't like he had never seen death before, nor did he feel strongly for the guy who had been threatening him with a deadly weapon, but still. . . . It had all been pretty violent.

He felt Diogee press against his legs moments before he found himself unexpectedly sitting hard on the ground, head light and spinning slightly. That was weird. Oh. Oh!

“Hey, kid, you okay?” he heard distantly, his ears ringing.

“Gwaine, that's a lot of blood. I think he's going to pass out. We need to stop the bleeding.”

Milo pulled himself together enough to dig through the items from his bag and pull out the (large and well-stocked) first aid kit. He handed it to the second guy who had spoken; he looked more pulled together.

“You'll probably need to stitch me up. I don't think I can reach where the cut is. Here, there's alcohol to clean it first,” Milo said to him.

“Alcohol?” the other knight, the one with the flippy brown hair, asked. “Like ale? Seems strange to put that on a wound.” He opened the bottle to sniff it, recoiling at the odor, a combination of confusion and horror on his face.

“No, no!” Milo replied “It's not drinking alcohol. It's to make sure the wound's clean. Here.” He grabbed the bottle and poured some over the injury, holding his breath to keep from crying out at the sting. He couldn't hold back the tears spilling from his eyes, though.

At least he felt a bit more alert, now. Still kind of woozy, though.

The knight he had given the first aid kit to dug through it, pulling out a needle and suturing thread. He carefully began the painful process of stitching the gash in Milo's shoulder closed. Milo bit down hard on his lip, whimpering slightly. He was used to pain—it was kind of part of being a Murphy. But usually, there was some anesthetic involved when he was getting stitches. Go figure, that was the one thing he had forgotten to pack today in all the morning rush.

“I didn't know you knew how to sew, Lancelot,” the flippy-haired knight pondered aloud.

“You pick up all sorts of things on the road,” the other replied. “Besides, I'm a commoner by birth, remember? I've had to do all sorts of things for myself over the years. There you go,” he turned to Milo, tying a bandage securely over the stitches. “All patched up. Now then, what's your name and how did you end up in _this_ godsforsaken part of the woods? Don't you know there are bandits all over the place around here?”

Milo's overwrought brain swam, trying to keep up. Rather than answering the immediate questions, it latched onto a name mentioned earlier in the conversation.

“Wait, did I just get stitches from _the_ Sir Lancelot?” he wondered before falling into unconsciousness.

***

Milo gradually swam back towards consciousness. His first coherent thought was _Well this is a first. I can't believe I ended up in medieval Britain with Sir Lancelot and . . . I think Sir Gawain? Only it's actually pronounced Gwaine? Sara's going to be so jealous; this is such a Doctor Zone Files sort of situation._

Little by little, he became aware of the throbbing in his shoulder and ankle. The rough texture of his backpack under his head. The crackling and warmth of a fire nearby. ( _Oh boy, that's dangerous_.) A conversation going on a little ways off. As his senses became clearer, the snippets of conversation began making a bit more sense.

“ . . .sorcery . . .”

“Can't take him back to Camelot. . . .”

“ . . . wish Merlin were here.”

“ . . . knows more about sorcery . . . spends so much time with Gaius.”

“. . . better sense of medicine, too, I suspect.”

“Speaking of, shouldn't the boy be waking up by now? I know he lost a lot of blood, but. . . .” That was the flippy-haired one—Gwaine, Milo's brain supplied. He sounded worried.

“I don't know. I'm not a physician. Hopefully soon,” Lancelot replied.

Milo figured it was time for him to start trying to get up, although his head still felt a bit woozy. He had lost a good bit of blood. Fortunately, experience had taught him that drinking water and eating something would go a good way towards helping with that sensation—and he _was_ prepared with bottled water and granola bars.

“Hi, guys,” he said, sitting up slowly and wincing slightly when the motion pulled at his stitches. “What did I miss?” He noted absently, as he sat up and began digging through his bag for food and water, that they had moved from the clearing where he had been attacked. The dead body was nowhere to be seen.

“You're awake. Good,” Gwaine said, rising from his seat by the fire to check on Milo.

“We moved to a safer location to set up camp,” Lancelot added. “You should be protected for the moment, but . . . do you have somewhere to go? I do not believe we can safely take you back to Camelot with us.”

“Oh, I wouldn't worry about it too much; I'm sure it will work out. I bet my friends will be coming to get me anytime now,” Milo replied. “Here, would you guys like a granola bar? They're delicious _and_ nutritious.” He began munching on one himself, having already downed nearly half a bottle of water in one gulp. He was already beginning to feel better. The knights eyed the proffered food warily for a moment before accepting, taking a moment to figure out how to actually get to the bars through the wrappers.

“Mm, this is good,” Gwaine said through a mouthful of chewy goodness. “Is this also part of your sorcery?” Lancelot shot him an incredulous look.

“Well, actually . . . ” Milo began before being cut off by the appearance of a modern car quite literally popping into the clearing out of nowhere. Dakota's head stuck out of the passenger-side window.

“Hey kid, get in. We're here to take you home. Sorry you got stuck out here to begin with. We had a bit of a temporospatial accident. There was an orangutan and a truckful of peanuts and some balloons. . . . You had to be there,” he said.

“No worries, Mr. Dakota. I had a really interesting time here. I got to meet Sir Lancelot and Sir Gwaine!” Milo replied, pointing out the respective knights. “Sir knights, these are my friends, Mr. Dakota and Mr. Cavendish. It's time for me to go home now, but thanks for all your help!”

Milo climbed into the time vehicle, waving goodbye to the knights. Before he closed the door he heard a quick muttered exchange between them.

“Sorcery. . . .”

“We are never mentioning this to anyone.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. It's not even October anymore. But this particular prompt struck me, and it ended up being fun to write. Even if it's not particularly whumpish. Milo's too optimistic and prepared; he wasn't cooperating with the whump at all. Also, sorry if the medical stuff is off; I'm not a doctor.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading! Kudos and comments are hugely appreciated.


End file.
